e for
practical purposes; I will now claim--until dispossess--that I was the
first person in the world to APPLY THE TYPE-MACHINE TO LITERATURE. That
book must have been THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. I wrote the first half
of it in '72, the rest of it in '74. My machinist type-copied a book for
me in '74, so I concluded it was that one.

That early machine was full of caprices, full of defects--devilish ones.
It had as many immoralities as the machine of today has virtues. After
a year or two I found that it was degrading my character, so I thought
I would give it to Howells. He was reluctant, for he was suspicious of
novelties and unfriendly toward them, and he remains so to this day. But
I persuaded him. He had great confidence in me, and I got him to believe
things about the machine that I did not believe myself. He took it home
to Boston, and my morals began to improve, but his have never recovered.

He kept it six months, and then returned it to me. I gave it away twice
after that, but it wouldn't stay; it came back. Then I gave it to our
coachman, Patrick McAleer, who was very grateful, because he did not
know the animal, and thought I was trying to make him wiser and better.
As soon as he got wiser and better he traded it to a heretic for a
side-saddle which he could not use, and there my knowledge of its
history ends.

ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER

It is almost a fortnight now that I am domiciled in a medieval villa in
the country, a mile or two from Florence. I cannot speak the language;
I am too old not to learn how, also too busy when I am busy, and too
indolent when I am not; wherefore some will imagine that I am having a
dull time of it. But it is not so. The "help" are all natives; they talk
Italian to me, I answer in English; I do not understand them, they
do not understand me, consequently no harm is done, and everybody is
satisfied. In order to be just and fair, I throw in an Italian word when
I have one, and this has a good influence. I get the word out of the
morning paper. I have to use it while it is fresh, for I find that
Italian words do not keep in this climate. They fade toward night, and
next morning they are gone. But it is no matter; I get a new one out of
the paper before breakfast, and thrill the domestics with it while it
lasts. I have no dictionary, and I do not want one; I can select words
by the sound, or by orthographic aspect. Many of them have French or
German or English